Heart's True Desire
by VoiDreamer
Summary: She has made many mistakes in her life, but Lady Cousland, Queen of Ferelden, finds that maybe the biggest regret of her life is not that her husband loves another, but that she walked away from a love she didn't realize was truly hers to begin with. A three part look into what happens after the 'happy ending'. Ultimately F!Cousland/Zevran
1. The Lingering Regret

AN: I am SO close to completing the next chapter to Historical Precedence. But I wrote this to take a bit of a break and I like where this is going. It's a three part look into the regrets and emotions that linger after the events of DA:O in a epilogue where F!Cousland did her duty and married Alistair for the (perceived) good of Ferelden.

It's not so much a romance as an exploration of what time does to people and how sometimes we don't realize something about ourselves until we see it in others.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in DA:O, it all belongs to Bioware and EA.

Please let me know what you think - questions are welcome and comments (and constructive criticism) are all enjoyed!

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

She watched them from her small bedroom balcony, her long hair streaming behind her in the slight wind. Serious green eyes, Cousland eyes, followed the couple as they walked through the lush gardens that had for so long been her greatest pleasure.

Now looking at the great old trees, their limbs heavy with fruit, did nothing but feed the ache in her chest. Touching her belly and the flatness of it, Elissa swallowed against the pain the threatened to undo her careful composure.

A soft feminine laugh drifted up on the wind, lighthearted and rich with affection, it was soon joined by the warm laughter of a man.

It was a familiar sound, that laugh, one she had heard many times over the years. A precious gift, a rarity during the struggle to save Ferelden, it had once been her most treasured.

The melodic sound filled her with nothing now save a lingering regret.

Observing the woman who walked so closely beside the man she had called husband for these past seven years, the Queen could not help but commit such details to memory.

Chin length red hair and pale skin, the combination was so familiar when paired with those long tapered elven ears. Shianni had been her friend for many years, but that elven woman had had no particular love of human men.

The scarlet haired woman in the garden below could be only one other and though they had never been formally introduced the Queen recognized Shianni's cousin easily enough.

After all, hadn't she been the one to lead the diplomatic envoy responsible for the rescue of Ferelden citizens from the Tevinter slavers?

The mission had been horrendously expensive, and Elissa still bore the memories of visiting the slave markets to see her citizens freed, the stench of death and desperation suffocating. Even now, nearly a five years after the mission, she couldn't quite stomach looking at a map of that dark kingdom.

The sensation of sickness, the cloying coldness in the pit of her belly had only gotten worse when she had made _this _particular discovery.

Watching the two companions continue to converse, she felt her chest tighten further. She had lived with him long enough to read his body language, and Alistair was most certainly interested in the small elven woman. But he had always been, and no doubt would forever be, the faithful husband; and though his body spoke of attraction, he remained at a polite distance, his hands carefully folded behind his back.

_When was the last time Alistair had looked at her with such frank affection, such adoration?_

Below her the couple shared jokes as they walked around the pond, doing nothing more until suddenly Alistair tripped. Kallian had decidedly better reflexes than her human companion, and the elven woman was quick to steady her king.

_"Are you alright?"_

Elissa didn't have to be close to see the concern on the woman's face, the purity of worry that seemed so entirely directed at her companion, at Alistair. And though neither of them had intended as such, the lingering way they held one another, shamed Elissa with its honesty.

_Kallian Tabris._

Elissa had heard her name more and more as the months had passed; first from Eamon, and then, from Alistair.

Her fingers clenched on the stone railing of the balcony as she turned away, unable to watch any longer.

She could feel the anger, hot and burning, sear her chest, as fresh as if it was the first time she had heard from Eamon about the king's mysterious new walking companion.

But with that anger came the strange ease of relief, of peace.

Withdrawing from the balcony, Elissa took a slow sighing breath as she entered her room, crossing to where her vanity stood. Opening the small silver box that held only her most precious things, she set aside the dried rose to search for something else entirely.

It glinted poorly in the dimness, but she knew what it was, had not forgotten this particular trinket.

A golden loop.

Her eyes traced its delicate shape for a long moment before she acted, following the path with a single finger before finally taking it in hand.

And when at last she held it up, bringing it into the streaming sunlight to reveal its true character, her heart thudded painfully in her chest at her secret.

Not a golden loop; it was an earring.

A token of affection.

Part of her laughed at how obvious the answer seemed now, while the other wept at a heart that continued to crack under the weight of what was to be done.

She loved Alistair. But not the way Kallian did…

She pressed the gold band to her lips and knew then what she had been unable to see before.

Not the way _he_ had loved her…

She knew that now. Just as she had suspected in the years following their marriage. But hers was not a decision made lightly or without heartbreak. And there was no stopping the stinging of tears in her eyes as she summoned her lady's maid for what would be a final request.

"Milady?" A servant appeared at her elbow, "You desire something?"

"If you would please pack a trunk for travel, a few of the more simple gowns. There's no need to take the formal court gowns, so leave them."

"You're Highness?" There was confusion in the woman's voice but the Queen resisted elaborating on her orders.

"There will be no questions, Naoryn, please just do as I ask."

And as the elven servant scurried away Elissa picked up the scattered pieces of her heart and inhaled slowly, collecting what strength she could to free Alistair, free them _both_, and bring joy to the kingdom of Ferelden.

As it was, she didn't have to wait very long. It was just before dinner when Alistair appeared in the doorway of their bedroom, his expression one of heartfelt concern.

"What's going on, my love? Eamon said there was something you wished to tell me?"

Looking at her king, resplendent in the fine silk and satin of his doublet, Elissa wondered if she would be able to go through with her plan. She loved him, of that there could be no doubt, but she knew he wished for children, for the affection of a woman who wasn't day by day growing bitter with pain over a child that was not going to happen.

He needed the love of a woman who could love him unreservedly.

And the kingdom needed a child of the Theirin bloodline, if just because past sacrifices had deemed it important. As a Cousland this had been important to her once, and even now it was a struggle to let such a responsibility fall from her shoulders.

The tears started then as they had back atop the balcony, large warm droplets that spilled from the corners of her eyes and stained her cheeks.

"Elissa?!" Alarmed at her distress, Alistair crossed the room to where she sat, holding her comfortingly against his chest.

"It's been too much…these seven years…I thought I was strong enough to endure it." She sobbed, "But I _can't_. Seven years…and _still_ there is no child."

Alistair pulled back with a start, heartbroken, "Why are you saying this?"

"Eamon…" She stopped suddenly realizing what she had said, shaking her head violently, "Nothing. Please, just release me from this union."

"Eamon?" Alistair repeated suspiciously as he released her, lowering himself to his knees so he could stare her in the eye, "What has he been saying to you?"

Elissa refused to say.

"Love, what has he been saying?"

"It is nothing I have not seen for myself."

"But what – "

"It's the elven woman, Kallian Tabris, Shianni's cousin; I know you care for her."

Alistair fell into a startled silence, his face too surprised to reveal anything else. And for a strained moment Elissa wonders if perhaps he'll deny what she can see so clearly. Indeed the evidence is there in the guilty expression on his face, he has always been such an open book with his emotions.

Touching the hand that lay comfortingly on her knee, Elissa gave it a gentle squeeze.

"She is so sweet, Alistair, and _whole_. A woman who will give you children before you must leave and she _loves _you. Do not think I am blind when it comes to you."

"I…" His brows furrowed as his eyes closed in agony, "I'm so sorry."

When at last he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion and he hugged her close, though to comfort whom even he did not know. "I know I should have said something…or told you. _Said something_."

He was, despite his mantel of 'King,' still very much the inexperienced Chantry boy she had met so long ago at Ostagar. And though time had toughened him ever so slightly, his sweet character remained almost wholly intact.

"You need not apologize, Alistair." Elissa smiled though part of her felt as if her heart was breaking, "I know you've done nothing more than talk or take small walks. Kallian sent me a letter, to beg my forgiveness for spending so much time with you and reassure me of the chaste nature of your relation."

Her smile faltered, "I can see how much you mean to her, and how very much in love she is with you despite the past I know she's had."

Alistair couldn't bear to look at her, the shame on his face aging him in a way that even the Blight had failed. Unable to help herself, her affection for him too strong to allow her to do otherwise, the young queen touched his arm, comforting though she was the one who hurt so terribly.

"Elissa, please...you know I married you because I love you."

She should have smiled at such innocence, but instead felt her smile slip further from her lips.

"There are many kinds of love, Alistair. Don't think I can't tell the difference now."

Unbidden came the image of Zevran into their midst, a wisp of memory that had haunted her more times than she cared to realize.

"He loved you." Alistair spoke softly, amber eyes watching her, "Do you regret turning him down now…to be loyal to me?"

"He loved us both in his way," Elissa couldn't help but smile, "And there was nothing I have done that I would ever regret, Alistair, even this."

"I will not force you away, Elissa Cousland. Do not think me heartless."

There were times when Alistair could act every inch the role of King, and now was such a time, the gentle hearted man transformed into the formidable ruler of Ferelden.

"You would rather your line end?" She sighed, "Live out the rest of your life childless in the name of loyalty, yes, I know you too, Alistair Theirin. But do not think me so easily swayed."

There was affection in her voice, a tenderness that for a moment reminded them of the love they had borne one another those many years ago.

"You love her more deeply than I can ever offer in return. That does not cheapen what we have, Alistair. It is in many ways just as Wynne warned all those years ago. Do you remember what she said?"

His expression was grave as he nodded.

"Is this truly what you want, Elissa?"

It would be the last time he asked, the last chance she had to change her mind. They were adults not children, and this decision was to change their world forever.

She kissed him softly on the jaw, patting it softly as she pulled away, "Let me go, Alistair. Be with Kallian…and when you hold your son in your arms for the first time, do me a favor?"

Alistair looked heartsick, but nodded slowly.

Elissa smiled slowly, tenderly, unable to help one last parting shot.

"Don't drop him."

He grinned then, a small one of surprise and recognition, a realization that despite this very large change to their relationship, they were still as close as they had been when the Blight ended. Taking her into his arms for one final time, he sighed as she clutched him back, accepting the bittersweet ache in her chest.

"Take care of yourself, Alistair." The words were mumbled into his shoulder, "And if you should ever need me, know that I will come to your aid, with a battalion of wardens if need be."

She closed her eyes to savor this moment, to _truly _hold him closebefore letting go.

"Come to the castle every once in a while," Alistair said softly, as melancholy descended on the pair, "Don't…just disappear."

Elissa smiled as she withdrew, "I won't. You know how much I love the current company."

She had nearly left the room before she realized she had nearly forgotten something, "Here...this is mine no longer."

She pulled the large ruby signet ring from her finger, "Your new queen will need this, don't you think?"

There was a flicker of pain in his eyes when he accepted the trinket back, "Elissa."

"I'm keeping the rose you gave me," she admitted after another echoing silence, "But I cannot in good conscious walk off with a precious family heirloom."

Nothing more could be said after that save for the final farewell, and as Elissa closed the door, leaving Alistair with his thoughts, she knew she had to leave immediately.

But she lingered, hand pressed on the door as if to somehow infuse it with all the remaining affection she had for him.

"Goodbye, Alistair."

And then she was moving down the hallway, away from the man she had loved once upon a time.

But before she could leave there was one last person she had to talk to. She found Eamon in his office, and for the first time since she had lived in the palace didn't bother knocking on the door before entering.

"You're Majesty?"

He stood up as she approached, deferring to the status of queen she no longer possessed.

"It is done." Elissa looked at Eamon, her eyes moist but voice steady, "I have given Alistair the freedom he needs, and returned the Queen's ring. May I consider myself free to leave?"

"Yes of course." The older Guerrin looked so tired, and not at all victorious. This decision had been made for the good of the kingdom and still that did not make their burden any lighter. "I am…sorry to have asked this of you."

"It is my duty to Ferelden," Elissa smiled with trembling lips, "Besides, Alistair loves her deeply, it is not so terrible for him. His love of an elven woman will heal the relations between the two peoples in Denerim, if not the whole of the kingdom."

The advisor nodded gravely, "It is…by all accounts an acceptable match."

The now ex-queen turned away from where he sat as his desk, "Look after him, Eamon. Let him be happy."

She moved towards the door, her full skirts fluttering around her in practiced grace.

"Milady, if I may be so bold to ask…where do you plan on going?"

Steel eyed determination had replaced the soft gaze of the woman who had sacrificed so very much. And though she was clad in the most fashionable silks, Eamon could almost imagine the dragon scale gauntlets on her hands, the sword she favored at her waist.

Queen she may no longer be, but Commander and Hero of Ferelden were not titles she would ever be able to leave behind.

"Lady Cousland?"

She paused in the doorway, her expression resolute. And though she looked the part of court woman, it was the Commander of the Grey who answered back.

"I'm going home, Eamon, to the Wardens."


	2. The Lingering Anger

AN: Thanks to everyone to added this fic and a special shout out to the two lovelies who stopped by and wrote comments, I appreciate you taking the time.

Without further ado here is another look into what happens after a not so 'happily ever after.'

Also, I love feedback and plot suggestions so if you have any ideas about things in this fic, by all means write me!

I own nothing you recognize (Bioware gets those credits).

Enjoy!

~Voi

* * *

"Master Aranai."

The sky was only just beginning to brighten when the call echoed through the compound, passing countless lips until they found themselves uttered by his master's steward at door. It was not an unusual time to get a request, but it had been years since anyone had sought his specific attention. Yuven must have considered it particularly important to bother him while he was otherwise occupied.

And because it was such a rarity, a novelty, there was no hiding the amusement on Zevran's lips as he smiled, his deep amber eyes half-lidded in a mask of careless relaxation.

"Do come in."

His voice crooned softly as he shifted, stretching decadently against the silken sheets, bronzed skin glistening with the finest sheen of sweat.

The steward appeared in the doorway a moment later, his face a picture of control. Not once did his eyes stray from his master's handsome face and years in service had made him all but immune to the low slung blankets and muscled physique.

"Why have you bothered me Yuven? You do know how I enjoy my mornings."

There was a lazy sleepiness in the elf's voice, a half-petulant lilt that masked just how aware the master assassin was. Even now, as he feigned distraction, eyes straying to the nude form of his lover, there was no mistaking the sharpness of his gaze, the way the muscles of his arms flexed in readiness.

"Or was it that you wanted to join the fun?"

The smile on those lips turned seductive, warmed with enough promise to make even his experienced steward blush.

"I have so missed your company these past few months, my dear Steward."

The comment was at least common enough that said man was able to avoid it with expert skill. Indeed, the man merely folded his hands behind his back and proceeded to reiterate the events of earlier that morning. The description of a red haired chantry sister drew immediate interest.

There were few who matched that description, fewer still who knew him by name. Zevran smiled faintly as he slipped from his bed, raking his hair back into a low tail before crossing the room to where his robe lay across the back of a chair.

"Did she give her name?"

The query was more a reassurance than actually questioning, and Zevran was only half listening as he rung for the servants to bring hot water and the washing basin.

"No sire, but she says she comes on behalf of King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden."

And though Zevran made no mention of displeasure, his steward noted the narrowing of his master's eyes all the same; whether due to the news or his distaste of his clothing choices was hard to say. Yuven had long since learned to assume nothing.

"I see. And where did you put our…_esteemed_ guest?"

It wasn't until he heard the slight growl in his master's response that Yuven knew he had done well to remain cautious.

"In the parlor, sir."

"I will deal with her myself then. Yuven, you may go."

There was a terse sharpness in the usually smooth response, an obvious ripple of anger where there had been none the moment before. Unusual for his master, Yuven had very nearly made his excuses and was on his way out when he was stopped once more.

"Oh, and before I forget…"

"Yes, sir?"

"Prepare the _Resilience_ for departure…we may have need of it."

The steward had lived long enough to know when danger prowled close, and without another word left the Master of the Crows to prepare.

Though for _what_, he couldn't say.

The parlor was a feast for the senses, with all the trappings of a wealth that came with a lucrative business in specialized assassinations.

Benches of rich brocade and silk stood plush with equally luxurious pillows, and all around the candle light glinted off surfaces of gold and crystal. It would have made any Orlesian noblewoman jealous, and as Leliana handled a fine silver goblet the bard in her appreciated the attention to detail.

It was a delicate thing, laying the perfect trap.

Too perfect and the prey would know something was wrong, too messy and there would be too many clues to identify the killers.

This room was the perfect training ground, and everything from the sights to the delicate wafting perfume was meant to test the unskilled.

Running her hand beneath the silver stem of her trophy, Leliana smiled triumphantly as her finger found the catch that released the delicate spring-loaded blade, examining the fine edge with an approving eye.

"You are a truly remarkable woman, my dear."

It had been years since they had last spoken, but she knew that voice without having to look. Gently sliding the weapon back into its decorative sheathe, she glanced at his reflection in the goblet's mirror surface before finally turning to face him.

"Hello, Zevran."

There was a somberness to the words, a gravity that even the Blight had never managed to conjure. Leliana would tell him soon, but for now the difference was noticed if simply unexplained.

"There were rumors that you had taken the mantle of Master of the Crows but…"

"You wound me, my darling, I assure you the rumors are all true…though" The smile on his lips didn't quite reach his eyes, "I must admit that even I did not think I would find myself back here after our little traipse through Ferelden. It was so very unexpected, no?"

Leliana knew well enough what was being left unsaid, knew the reason behind the simmering anger in his eyes. It had driven the elven assassin back to the land of his birth, the unchecked fury of a man who had lost everything.

"Now then, my dear. What was it our dear _friend _Alistair wanted?"

The fury congealed into icy rage before her eyes, the glint in his eyes cold flecks of steel.

It had been years but Leliana had known some wounds would never heal, would never be _allowed _to heal. Still, Alistair had been desperate, and for their friendship and hardships they had borne together as comrades Leliana had promised to _try_.

"There is a woman that he -" She corrected herself almost instantly, "-that _we_ need found."

"Well there are many women here in Antiva, my dear…"

His sweet words were a mockery of the real thing, his movements the smooth approach of a predator and not the lover he otherwise pretended to be, "But you see I am a simple man and cannot be expected to remember them all…"

Elegant hands plucked a succulent fruit from the tray that sat between them, the smooth flesh glimmering beneath the tan of his fingers. Closing his eyes as he partook of his feast, he seemed to temporarily forget her presence as the fruit disappeared beneath his lips, juices dripping sweetly down his throat. It was only when he was done that his golden eyes slid open to where she sat transfixed.

"There are various notary in the capital that could search the records for you, _my dear_."

At the time of the Blight there would have been little he would not have done, for the greater good, for their leader, but the events after the Archdemon had changed that. It was hard to reconcile this coldly beautiful man and the pleasantly dishonest assassin he had been during their journey.

Leliana swallowed hard, as she continued on, feeling her heart ache at the desolate coldness she knew sat beneath all that anger, that rage.

"It's about Elissa, Elissa Cousl-." The name came out in a rush.

"You speak as if I should know this 'Elissa,' it is a very common name you know." He cut her off though his smile remained pasted on his lips, "Or that the name 'Cousland' should mean something to me after what happened those many years ago."

He poured himself a goblet of wine, pausing to take a sip before continuing on, "You must have mistaken me for someone else, I think."

"Please, Zevran, do not do this."

"You do know I am a man of little pity, yes?_" _The assassin took another sip, "But very well, let me entertain you for a moment, my dear. What was it exactly that you wished to know?"

"Where can we find her?"

He didn't bother looking up from his glass, "I believe I told you that _that _question is one even I do not know."

"Then tell us anything you _do_ know." The bard was quickly growing desperate, "Please, Zevran."

Outside there was a sudden flurry of noise, the tinkling laughter of a woman and a sudden infusion of music as an unseen collection of musicians floated by on one of Antiva's pleasure barges. It was only when it had passed, the music disappearing in the wind that Zevran finally spoke.

"She is the Queen of Ferelden here on a holiday, what more could you possibly need beyond that?" Looking out over the chaos of the room to where the fine silk curtains fluttered in the window, Zevran seemed as if he were reading from a great book of knowledge, his voice low and steady.

"Her arrival, as you can imagine, was quite the spectacle, but by all accounts she is well loved and had kept a, how would you say...modest group of admirers to entertain her."

"But she…" Leliana chose her words carefully, "Zevran, Elissa has not been seen for several years now."

"Has she not?" The assassin focused back to where she was sitting, one eyebrow raised in question, "Well then, it is strange indeed that we received word of her here. What would make a king allow his queen disappear for so long, I wonder? I can only think of one thing, and I believe King Alistair would sooner fall upon his sword than take a lover."

But no sooner had the words slips from his lips like honeyed poison when he saw the truth of them in her eyes, her answer in the expression of her face.

He straightened suddenly, his expression darkening into a stormy scowl.

"Oh, my dear, I fear you have made a grave mistake by coming here."

When she didn't say anything, he got to his feet, prowling the room once more.

"If I didn't know any better I would say that our dear Alistair has completely lost his mind," hissing under his breath, Zevran's hand settled on a delicate serving fork, taking it with him as he passed.

"He needs her to come back to Ferelden."

Leliana's words were met with deafening silence and then a sudden explosion of movement as Zevran propelled the fork through the air, sinking it prongs deep in the supple wood of the wall.

"What the Ferelden King needs to do is to _stay out of her business_!"

"She is a noblewoman as well as a Warden, Zevran," Leliana protested, "She-"

He _knew _Elissa Cousland better than anyone, even that fool king, she never would have abided by lovers and paramours.

"She is no longer his Queen."

The knowledge gave his word an edge, sharpened his temper, "So she does not need to do anything she does not wish. Wardens do not come at the behest of _Kings_."

"Zevran, please-"

"And Antivan Crows do not act upon the whims of Chantry agents." He gestured to the doorway, drawing their conversation to a sudden screeching halt.

"Goodbye my dear. It was such a _pleasure_."

"_Zevran_!" Leliana looked shocked, but when he made no further movement there was little else she could do.

"And my dear? It would be best if you left the city tonight. No doubt Alistair will want my response as quickly as possible."

"After everything, you stoop to threats?" She looked at him in disgust, hands clenched at her sides as she judged him, condemned him for his words.

His smile was soft, terrifying in its gentleness.

"Promises, my dear. I make promises"

And when at last she left, amidst the terrible silence and rigidity that better fit strangers than old comrades, Zevran watched her go without a drop of sympathy, sending one of his own to watch her until she left the city completely.

It wasn't until he received confirmation of her departure from the city limits that he decided in favor of locating the woman who was queen no longer.

Fingers pressed beneath his chin, he had considered the news with the two sets of eyes; the objective eyes of a master assassin as well as those of the man he had been those many years ago. It was easier to be the former, was a role he had grown increasing more comfortable with as life had taken its course. The work suited his temperament better now than it in his past, and it was not hard to imagine how the information could be twisted into a sum of coin and prestige.

But the man he had once been, the one _she _knew, was still very much a part of him, and despite his intention to keep the news of Elissa Cousland's stunning fall from power in a firmly political lens, he found their shared history complicated the view.

Unacceptable to be so conflicted about something that had happened nearly a decade ago, Zevran lingered in the room only a moment later before making his decision.

Without a word to either his Steward or his compound full of assassins Zevran took the small bridge across the canal and disappeared around the corner.

There would only be one way to solve this issue.


	3. The Lingering Heart

AN: So here it is, the third and final part of this little trilogy. I wanted to thank all the people who took the time to read (and a special shout out to those of you who reviewed)! It's been fun returning to DA for a bit and your support has been lovely.

I hope you enjoy, and feel free to ping me if you have any questions!

~Voi

* * *

She had never expected to see him again.

Foolishly perhaps, because wasn't it that she had come to Antiva the moment she had left the Wardens at Vigil? Her heart had known what it wanted long before her mind could wonder at the intelligence of such actions.

It had taken three years to purge the title of queen from recent memory and it was only when she had resumed command of Wardens, defending it again all manner of enemy that she had felt a little more like the woman she had once been.

Elissa Cousland the warrior, instead of Elissa Cousland the Queen.

But that too had become a burden all its own, and this time her sense of duty failed her. She had left Vigil in the hands of Nathaniel Howe, the man whose similar sense of duty had compelled him to face her with unflinching bravery. They had repaired the relationship in the time she had spent there, and when at last she had handed over the role of Commander, it was to a man she considered a friend as well as capable leader.

"Can I get you anything, my lady?"

Naoryn, the elven maid who had loyally followed her all over the continent, waited patiently in the doorway.

"Some tea, please."

Retiring to the small parlor, Elissa mused at her new position away from prying eyes. She had held many titles in her life, Hero of Ferelden, Queen, Commander of the Grey; but having abandoned them all she was forced to face the woman Elissa Cousland as a singular being.

Glancing at the mirrored vanity, she meets the eyes of her reflection for only a moment before looking away.

Ten years is not terribly long, but for a warrior whose life is limited to three decades because of the taint it feels as if the end is rushing up to meet her. And she can see the age on her face, the hair fading before it's time, the faint lines around her eyes and mouth wrought from a lifetime of hardship.

But perhaps it is not so much the taint as it is the harshness in which she has chosen to live. The world of courtiers and noblewoman had never truly been a place she had felt comfortable, but it was one she knew well. One that would have spared her the calluses upon her palms and the scars upon her body.

It is the scars upon her heart that hurt the most now.

And they are _scars_, not open wounds, for she has allowed time to wear down the searing pain into nothing more than a dull reminder of what had once been agony.

"My lady!"

The shattering of porcelain upon the ground is what jars her from her thoughts, drawing her attention with the sharp crack of a whip to the doorway where her maid has fallen. Face pale, trembling as she lay sprawled upon the ground, Naoryn whimpers as a man steps over her towards her mistress.

"Hello, my dear. I apologize for the mess."

And though she has not seen him for years, she recognizes him immediately, knows that accented voice and lilting melody of his words. But recognizing and _knowing _are two different things, and Elissa sends her maid to the safety of the kitchen with a few short words, leaving only herself and the master assassin.

"Hello, Zevran."

As far as greetings go, it is a poor one, but time has made her clumsy and lack of practice have made her doubly so.

"Ah, so it is to be a polite call then. Excellent." He smiles as he clasps his hands together, scanning the room, "I had wondered how it might be between us. It seems some things stay similar enough, no?"

There is something in the way he says it that makes Elissa's throat tighten with emotion, though she knows not why.

Watching as he traverses the modest confines of her suite, she finds that at least outwardly the years have been kind to him. He seems as fit and fair as always, and even now, as he speaks of a great many things she cannot help but follow the familiar swing of his hips, the gait that used to draw her attention those many years ago.

But there are differences, ones that runs deep.

The clues are there in the tone of his voice, the sharpness of his speech, and the way that even now his many smiles do nothing to warm the frozen look in his eye.

He's a colder man, beautiful still, but not her golden lover any longer. And for all of his teasing words and good humor, there is an underlying bitterness that she knows _she _put there.

"My dear, if I am making you uncomfortable you must let me know." He sits upon the rounded cushion as if it were a throne, "Also, you must let me know if you wish to kill me. It is something I am used to, but I do appreciate an advance warning regardless."

"I…"

She doesn't know what to say now that he is here. Three years since her revelation and she is no better prepared than she was then. But she does not want him to see her as an enemy, even if she does not know how to convince him.

"I don't want to kill you."

Her sentiment makes him smile, but as it dances upon his lips it is as insincere as the rest, "Then I shall have to watch out for wounding strikes instead of those with murderous intent."

The blow is one she takes with all the poise of her noble upbringing. His words ringing with the memory of their last conversation back at the palace, before they went their separate ways.

"Zevran I want to-"

"There is no need to waste time apologizing for anything, my dear. I am an assassin, no? Wounds are part of the job."

Here - "

He gestures her forward as he unbuttons his shirt and displaces the variety of daggers and knives on his person.

What she finds there, beneath the quilted silk makes the breath still in her lungs.

A scar, white with age but jagged and very large, bisects his chest above his heart. Like an explosion, the broken skin races outwards from what must have been a deep knife thrust, an attack meant to kill rather than maim.

A dagger close enough to strike at his heart.

"I assure you my dear, your words were better aimed and more painful by far." He gestures it with careless ease, "This fool was merely lucky…and very dead if memory serves right."

He shrugged, casual despite the cut of his words, "You are two for two. Good odds by assassin standards. So please, do not waste our time by spending them on platitudes."

The cruelty of his words, the horrors rend upon him by the life she had left him to are almost too much. She could still remember his glibness at the Tower of Magi as he talked of torture and the training at the hands of the Crows. For what reason had he returned to this place? To chase that fatal knife?

"Why are you here, Zevran? Why go back to Antiva?"

"Oh my dear, that is what I was going to ask you."

Elissa pressed further, unwilling to be distracted, "_Why_, Zevran? After all of your talk about how they would hunt you, try to _kill _you!"

"It was something to challenge me. To pass the time, if you will. What more does an assassin need to stave off boredom?"

She shakes her head, fury and anguish making the movement a jerky, snapped motion, "Don't lie to me, Zevran. Tell me to mind my own business if you don't want to tell me. But _please _do not lie."

"I do not owe you that, my dear."

"Then I will pay you in kind. You will hear nothing but lies from my lips if that is the story you wish to tell."

Her challenge was met with a contemplative silence. Their relationship had once been built on complete honesty, a truth that had left the other members of their party unease and even embarrassed at times. But for a woman who had struggled with the lies of courtly politics, Zevran's easy conversation and openness had been a turning point. She had never had to lie then; Elissa did not want to start now.

"Very well my dear. I shall trade my truths for yours."

He smiled at her but this time it was not as frigid as it had once been. The brittleness in his golden eyes lessened somewhat by her words.

"If you seek the truth then that is what I will tell you. Simply put, I wished to die. Or, barring that, free myself from the specter that the Crows had cast over me."

Gesturing to the insignia of Master Assassin, Zevran shrugged, "It was a straightforward path, with little need for political maneuvering. I killed those that did not agree to support me, and blackmailed those that claimed loyalty just to be sure."

"It took years, of course, but what did time matter?" He glanced at her for a moment, "You had shown me the strength that came from doing one's duty. The cost. I had no one to consider besides myself, so I made ruling the Crows _my _duty. It has proved to be a fair, if sometimes dangerous, mistress."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Zevran smiled, "The killing or the leading? I suppose the answer depends largely on my mood and how much money we have in the treasury."

"_Zevran_."

"I have said my piece." He ignored her stubbornly, "What is _your _story, my dear?"

"My story?"

"Your _true _story. Why are you here, Elissa Cousland?"

It was only fair she tell him everything.

And so she began at the beginning.

"I wanted so badly to do the right thing for Ferelden, to be the _daughter_ my parents had raised, to do their memory justice. At the Landsmeet it seemed as if I finally had the moment to redeem myself."

She smiled sadly, "You said that we had a relationship of convenience, but I can't say it felt all that easy letting you go."

Zevran didn't blink, "And yet you did all the same."

"I thought duty would sustain me the way it had during the Blight." She looked down at her hands, ashamed that it had taken her so very long to admit the truth, "I thought that I could weather any storm if I did as I was expected. For a while it did. I did _love _Alistair, in a way."

For a moment she thought Zevran flinched but she continued on.

"it was not romantic, at least, not how I understood romance. But I cared about him, and there was little I would not do for him. He needed my help, _Ferelden _needed my help, and I could not say no. Not when my blood and lineage is so tied to the land."

"It is different to be a noble. I cannot know what it is like for you, but we are taught to set aside our personal desires for the greater good."

"You had no such reservations when we were journeying together." Zevran pointed out, "If you did then I doubt you would have come to me."

"I thought it was lust."

Elissa's answer surprised Zevran with its honesty.

"I had been taught about courtly love, but you were so overt with your affections, it was startling." She flushed as the memories filled the room, "Flattering. I had never had a man look at me like you had, and it was _wonderful. _But that is all I thought it was."

"You never made promises for a future, and I did not think it was my place to push you. When the Landsmeet happened…you stepped aside. Because you did, I thought you had felt the same; that it was a physical relationship and nothing more."

Elissa paused, "Did you find it easy? Because I…struggled afterwards."

"What use would pretty words have been in the face of _your_ _duty_?" Zevran challenged, "I knew you well enough to know _my place_. I knew _you._"

And though his words cut, there was a hurt that was laid bare in that moment. A weakness exposed amidst the sharp armor that had sprung up around him.

Elissa jerked back as if he had physically lashed out, her throat tightening at the accusation in his voice, her heart aching because he cut straight to the truth of the matter, no matter how ugly.

"I did you a great disservice that day, Zevran. Because I did not understand, not truly, how you cared for me."

She inhaled as she pushed on, "I had thought you stepped aside because you cared very little for our relationship. It took several years before I found myself doing the same thing as you, because Alistair had found someone he _truly _loved, someone who loved him more deeply than I ever had."

Elissa turned towards the assassin, "That is why I am _here_. Because in walking away I wondered if you hadn't done the same thing for me, because you thought I could be happier with him."

Zevran was very quiet after that, his eyes trained on the sky that shone the deep turmeric of early evening.

"Zevran? Was I right?" Elissa felt as if the tension in her body might overcome her.

He laughed then, but the sound wavered, as if it might be a wail of pain instead. The noise of it drove Elissa to her feet, stepping towards him despite her own insecurities.

"My dear, you seem to have me confused with a noble, or some cultured lad. I am an _assassin_."

"And once upon a time you were my lover." Elissa responded quietly, "So tell me, did you walk away because you thought I could be _happy_?

"What would you have me say?"

She smiled weakly, "I would ask for the truth."

His frown deepened, "First, you will tell me why you went to Vigil."

"You knew?"

"Three years." Zevran confirmed, "I had wondered what Ferelden's Queen was doing leading the Wardens. But it makes sense now that I know you had removed your crown."

Elissa twisted her hands but said nothing.

"Why did you go the Wardens instead of me?"

His voice was probing, tinged with pain and curiosity, "Was facing me truly so terrifying?"

There is a long pause before she seemed ready to respond. But this time there was no backstory needed, because the most important reason was already counting down, running out like sands in a glass.

"Some people live for thirty or more years." Elissa sighed, "I am _not _going to be like that Zevran. My time will be far shorter."

He paused, "What do you mean?"

"When I went to Vigil, I had intended to spend maybe a year there before coming here. But after everything that had happened…the Architect…"

She exhaled roughly before continuing, gesturing to the premature lines on her face, "I'm not going to make it more than another decade, Zevran. I stayed at Vigil to get the Wardens in order, and to make sure everything will be cared for when I go to the Deep Roads."

There was a beat of terrible, _howling, _silence broken only by the sharp snap of his outrage.

"_What_?"

Zevran had straightened, eyes trained on her with unblinking concentration. And when she continued on with her rambling explanation, he could do nothing but watch as she grew increasingly pale.

"I could have returned to Denerim, to visit with Alistair for the remainder of my time. But I worried that he would have felt obliged to join me when I left." Elissa shrugged, "It was something we had talked about when we were married."

"And coming to Antiva…" She grimaced then, "It seemed pathetic to visit when I found out."

"What was the point of meeting you?" she smiled brokenly, "Because even if everything fell into place. Even if we _talked _and found peace, maybe even…"

She fell silent before leveling her bright green eyes with his golden ones, "All I can offer is a decade. Maybe less."

"_Elissa."_

It's the first time all evening that he's used her name. And the sound of it was so familiar, so achingly _right _that it made her eyes water, made the air expel from her lips like jagged cracks through ice, rough and uneven.

"I made the trip because in the end, despite all the time I had _wasted _by my own cowardice I couldn't stop wondering. And so here I am."

And this time, even though she tried to smile there was not the energy left in her to succeed. There was only the truth, and that was a tougher and heavier burden by far. It didn't even matter anymore if he answered her question; it had been…enough, to let him know the truth.

She had nothing more to say, and if it was that he wished her gone then she would leave. But until then she would take solace in the sounds of the ocean outside her window and the knowledge that he now knew.

"Does my answer no longer interest you?"

His question made her pause in the middle of the parlor drew her back around until she could face him once more. Elissa didn't know that there was anything else to say, not when he seemed so resistant to talking at the onset.

But she had come far, and perhaps this time he would tell her all the secrets he had kept those many years ago. As she turns to eye him once more she can tell there's been a shift, it's as apartment on his face as the rest of him.

He's more serious now than he's been all evening. There is not a trace of a smile on neither his lips, nor a twinkle in that citrine gaze; but so too is the ice gone, shattered if not melted. And for a breathless moment Elissa wonders if she can't see the man who was her lover stare her back in kind.

"Have you ever known me to lie, my dear?"

A lump formed in her throat and stayed there.

"Not in the past."

"And now?" He pressed her, stepping close enough that she could very nearly feel the heat of his body against her own.

"You promised to tell me the truth, in exchange for my truth."

He nodded, and then gently, _so _gently touched her cheek with the back of a single finger.

"Then understand me when I say you were correct. And I have never _stopped _loving you, despite the time apart."

There had been other lovers of course, for him, because even he could not change all his habits. But Elissa knew the difference, just as she now knew lovers from _loves_.

There would be no others after her. Not for him.

Just as she had come to understand that for her there was only one whom she loved as deeply and as richly as _she_ was loved.

The feel of his arms around her were glorious. Strong and supportive, she felt the sob catch in the back of her throat as she trembled against him.

And though they might not have long together, she knew that this time there would be no regrets, no silent wonderings at what might have been.

Years it had taken her, but she had found the courage at last, and with it she had found what she had not understood those many years ago.

Her Heart's True Desire.


End file.
